37. Goodbye
Chapter thirty-seven
Goodbye
Two weeks pass before Oberon returns, the longest he has been gone. I feel his presence the moment he steps through the shadows, a shift in the air that sends my pulse racing.
I don’t know exactly where he is, but I know, without question, that he is here.
I don’t hesitate. I move through the stronghold with purpose, searching for him, needing to see him with my own eyes.
When I finally find him in the meeting hall, his expression is unreadable, his posture rigid. Zander and Ash are already there, maybe drawn to his return just as I am. But the others, the usual gathering of Fae who meet for debriefings, are nowhere in sight.
Oberon doesn’t look at me. I can see the exhaustion in his face, the weight of whatever news he carries pressing heavily on him. I step inside, closing the door behind me, falling into the small circle that has formed.
His voice is steady, but there is a tightness to it as he speaks. “The army is on the move. They’re pushing through the mountain clan’s territory, getting closer by the day.”
Zander’s jaw tenses. “Do they know we’re here?”
“No,” Oberon says, shaking his head. “And as long as the wards hold, they never will.”
Ash curses under his breath. “Fuckers. We need to slow them down.”
Oberon arches a brow. “That’s why I’m here. They’ve established a new supply route. If we cut it off, we cripple their ability to get weapons and rations. We keep them weak before they ever reach us.”
Ash crosses his arms. “Will that really stop them?”
A heavy silence settles over the room. We all know time is the one thing we desperately need, the one thing we never have enough of.
“No, it won’t,” Oberon says, his voice firm. “But it will slow them down. Buy us some time.”
Zander’s brows furrow. “Will you be helping with this mission?”
Oberon’s gaze darkens, and he shakes his head. “No. My father is more paranoid than ever. I don’t know how much longer I can keep him at bay before he completely unravels.”
Ash’s confusion is clear. “Then what?”
Oberon’s eyes narrow. “We know there’s a traitor within the rebellion, someone feeding him information.”
Zander’s face goes blank, the weight of the revelation settling in.
“We don’t know who it is,” Oberon continues, his voice tight with frustration, “and I haven’t found any solid leads. What we do know is that they haven’t managed to get any concrete information about this place or the true size of the rebellion. But I can’t be sure how deep this goes.”
Ash leans forward, a sharp edge in his voice. “It could be worse, then, right?”
Oberon exhales sharply. “I don’t know. If he believes the rebellion is still growing, and he can’t stop it, he will start killing anyone he deems a traitor, no matter who they are. He’ll do it just to scare the rest into submission.”
Zander’s jaw clenches. “We can’t let that happen.”
Oberon’s gaze is unwavering. “Exactly. That’s why I’m not staying. I need to ensure he doesn’t unravel completely. With his army swelling and us barely holding onto the southern territories, we don’t have enough strength to face him head-on and expect to win.”
Ash’s frustration is palpable. “But we’ve tried everything. There’s nowhere left to go to find allies.”
Oberon’s lips twitch, just barely. “We haven’t tried everywhere.”
I catch the brief glance he shoots my way, but it is quickly gone, replaced by a hard resolve. He turns back to Zander and Ash. “For now, we slow them. I don’t know how much time we have, but we need to buy any extra time we can. You’ve got your mission.”
“You and Zander will hit their supply lines. Force them to retreat. It won’t give us much, maybe months, hopefully, it will be enough.”
At that moment, I step forward, my voice a bit sharper than I intend. “I want to help.”
Oberon’s eyes flick to mine, just for a second, before he turns back to Zander. His expression remains indifferent. “You aren’t ready.”
“I—” I start, but Zander cuts me off before I can finish.
Zander’s voice is firm as he steps forward. “She is formidable.”
Ash doesn’t waste any time jumping in. “You haven’t been around lately, Oberon. You haven’t seen her in action. She’s been kicking ass. Trust me.”
Oberon’s expression tightens, his gaze locking with mine. “If she’s not ready, she could get herself or you both hurt. I’m not willing to risk that.”
Zander’s eyes flash with frustration. “That’s bullshit,” he snaps, my eyes widening in shock at his tone. “You wanted her here, want her to be trained. Ash and I have made sure she can handle herself, and both of us would go to bat for her capabilities. She’d be a valuable asset on this mission.”
Ash nods in agreement, adding with a grin, “Yeah, what he said. Although I’m surprised to hear it from his mouth.”
Zander shoots Ash a sideways glare. Oberon’s eyes are focused on the two of them, his expression unreadable. I stand frozen, caught off guard by their defense of me, their belief in my abilities.
It is the first time I’ve seen either of them speak up for me like this, especially with Oberon still hesitating.
I snap, unable to keep the edge from my voice, “If you want to know what I’m capable of, maybe you should stick around long enough to find out.”
Oberon regards me for a moment, then sighs, his tone more resigned. “Very well.” He pauses before adding, “I don’t want to see any of you hurt. You complete the mission, keep each other alive.”
We all nod in unison, but Oberon isn’t finished. “I would rather see you all safe than dead for this cause.” Without another word, he turns and leaves the room, his heavy steps echoing in the silence he leaves behind.
We all stand still for a moment, the weight of his words hanging in the air.
I turn to Ash and Zander, gratitude welling inside me. “Thank you,” I say quietly. “For having my back.”
Ash gives a casual shrug. “No need to thank us. You put in the work. You’re a badass. Oberon shouldn’t doubt that.”
Zander offers me a reassuring smile, resting a hand on my shoulder. His gesture is simple but speaks volumes.
The tension in the room eases slightly, but the reality of what lies ahead still lingers in the air. We all know the risks, but we also know what needs to be done. Without another word, we part ways, heading in different directions.
As I walk away, my mind buzzes with everything Oberon said. One thing is certain: I don’t know how much time I have left with him before he is pulled away again, and I intend to take advantage of whatever time we have together.
I find him in his room, sitting on the couch that runs along one wall. His elbows rest on his knees, his chin propped up on his fists, the same distant look in his eyes that has become so familiar lately.
He is deep in thought, but it isn’t the usual intensity I’ve come to expect. There is something more . . . weighing down on him now.
More often than not, he seems to be somewhere far away, lost in whatever battles rage in his mind.
I approach him slowly, unsure of what I can offer, but I can’t stay away. I move closer, hoping that just by being near him, by sharing this space, I can somehow ease the burden pressing so heavily on his chest.
“Let me in,” I say softly, the words coming out before I even fully realize what I am asking.
He lifts his gaze to me, his face firm, a mask of indifference that hides the turmoil I know is there.
“Please,” I continue, my voice cracking slightly, but still, he doesn’t respond.
We sit there in silence, the air between us dense with everything that remains unsaid. It stretches on for what feels like an eternity.
“I should go,” he mutters, shifting in his seat before standing.
“Talk to me,” I plead, my desperation creeping into my tone. “I can’t help if I don’t know what’s going on. Please . . . let me in.”
His eyes soften, and there’s a sharpness in his voice when he speaks. “You can’t help at all.”
It feels like a punch to my chest, but I’m not ready to give up. “I want to.” My voice barely above a whisper, “I want to take care of you.”
He chuckles then, a sound devoid of humor, and runs his hands through his hair. “Take care of me?” he repeats, as if the idea is absurd.
Maybe no one has ever taken care of him before.
Maybe he has always been the one to take care of everyone else, to give and give until there is nothing left.
“Yes,” My voice firmer now as I tighten my resolve.
“I want to take care of you.” I gesture around the room, taking in the weight of the situation, of everything that has led to this moment.
“All of this,” I say, my voice trembling with the force of my emotions, “This entire fucking thing, it’s because of you.
You take care of everybody. You give yourself over and over again until there’s nothing left.
Who gives back to you? Who refills what you empty? Who takes care of you?”
He remains silent, but I can see the way his shoulders tense.
I press on, unable to stop myself. “Let me. Let me in. Let me take care of you. Let me hold this with you. I don’t care how hard it gets. I want to be here for you.”
I see a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes, but it is gone just as quickly. He shakes his head, a hollow look in his gaze. “It’s too late,” he says softly.
“What do you mean it’s too late?” I demand, a surge of anger and fear coursing through me. “It’s not. Stop being so damned stubborn.”
“It’s not me being stubborn,” he says, his voice low and resigned. “It’s the truth. It’s too late for me. All I can do now is make sure that I’ve given you the tools to carry on in my place.”
I recoil, my breath catching in my throat. “What are you talking about?” I scream, the panic rising in my chest. “What is really going on?”
He doesn’t answer. His eyes flicker to the side, refusing to meet mine. The silence that follows is unbearable.
I swallow hard, my heart pounding in my chest. I can’t keep the tremor from my voice when I speak next. “You speak as if you’re already dead.”